“‘We have kept it,’ said Herr Schloss, emerging from the dark hall.
“‘—and have paid,’ beamed Frau Schloss anxiously.
“‘We have indeed paid,’ helped Herr Schloss.
“‘I have seen them pay,’ corroborated the Gemüse Frau, looming from the dark doorway.
“Oh, they held me with a glittering eye, Frau Schloss, Herr Schloss, and the Gemüse Frau, as I listened to their tale, awaited the bringing forth of the letter and stood silent and noncommittal throughout the profuse explanation of each glaring governmental mark that announced money due.
“‘Bless my soul!’ I cried in English; ‘it’s from Gorgas.’ And I ripped it open right before them, ejaculated my joy in their very faces—we were still on the sidewalk in front of the house—thanked them in flowery German and passed rapidly by to my old rooms without so much as a hint of payment.
“They followed me.
“‘Is it then an important letter?’ anxiously inquired the Frau Schloss.
“‘Important?’ I echoed. ‘It is worth a million Dutch thalers.’
“Then I saw their faces. ‘Oh’ I sensed their trouble. ‘My best thanks for your thoughtfulness; pray, accept this little token,’ and I passed the lady the sum of twelve cents—a silver fifty-pfennig piece—a Bavarian ransom. As the postage amounted to only twenty-five pfennig, this gave the family a clear rake-off of six American cents. Ah! there was joy in the Schloss family that night, and for days the Gemüse Frau shone by reflected glory. Thrift! What would we Americans in Germany do without thrift in the Germans!